


Connect

by AkaneRei



Series: Jeankasa Drabbles [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaneRei/pseuds/AkaneRei
Summary: In preparation for the attack in Liberio, a moment of comfort between the two.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein
Series: Jeankasa Drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149374
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	1. Entreat

_Fucking Eren Yeager,_ he thought for the umpteenth time that evening, as he buckled belts, tightened harnesses, and took care of the gear he needed to in preparation for a shitty plan they were all forced to go along with. The suicidal bastard had been a pain in his ass since he first laid eyes on him, and this latest stunt was just another in a long series of asshole things he can hold against the brat. If the brass weren’t so in love with the Titan shifter, they’d have realized a long time ago how unhinged Yeager was.

He groused. He was being unfair. He can admit that to himself, at least. He knew, _knew_ , that his animosity towards Eren was partially childish. A remnant of the jealous adolescent he once was and sometimes still is.

He also knew without a shadow of a doubt that Eren had his moments. He just wished those moments weren’t few and far in between.

But damned if those fucking letters didn’t wanna make him hog tie the selfish little prick until they left Marley to keep him out of trouble. The look on Mikasa’s face when Hange finally told them all where Eren had gone—

He caught himself. 

Thinking about Mikasa and her reactions was not the best path for him. It led to an emotional response that often resulted in irrational actions unfit for commanding officers. He, more than anyone, knew it was best for him to avoid her altogether. But Fate, it seemed, had other ideas as he ran smack dab into her on his way to get the thunder spears.

He held on to her instinctively in an attempt to balance themselves, but the fact of the matter is, Mikasa was as steady as a rock and was in no danger of clumsily falling on her feet. He quickly let go of her arms and awkwardly stepped back. He can feel his face flush at the accidental contact, at the experience of just holding her, even for a brief second.

“Mikasa,” he babbled, “I’m sorry!” 

_Get a grip, Kirstein! You’re not a goddamn adolescent!_

She gave him a startled glance and a nod. “Me too,” she murmured distractedly. “I didn’t see you there.”

He looked at her in askance. 

The hell? Since when did Mikasa Ackerman’s situational awareness fail her?

_Never._

She moved to walk past him, in a seeming hurry.

 _Let it go,_ he told himself. _Focus on your gear. You still need to talk to your team. She’s fine. You still have a lot of things to get ready before—_

Against his better judgment, he turned back and reached for her arm. “Mikasa,” he said with both hesitation and urgency.

_Oh no you didn’t! You most certainly did NOT just initiate contact with the one person you said you were going to avoid._

He watched her pause, her head turning to look at the hand holding her arm, before turning fully to face him.

 _You’re a goddamn masochist, Kirstein,_ his inner voice taunted. It did so love to torture him.

“Jean,” her tone and her eyes inquiring.

_Aww shit. She’d gone and said his name._

He took a deep breath. 

_Here goes nothing, you lovesick, useless piece of —_

“Are you...alright?” he asked, his question was uninspired.

 _Are you alright. Are you alright?! Are you alright! That’s what you’re going with?_ his inner voice berated him.

Sometimes, he wished his inner voice would Just. Shut. Up.

Mikasa gave him a passive stare. 

“You just don’t seem...yourself,” he continued lamely, grasping for something...for anything even remotely intelligent to say. “I mean not that there’s nothing wrong ...or anything. Just that you seem a little ...off?”

She snapped her arm back from his grasp. The fire in her eyes was enough to reduce any man’s soul to ashes.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, almost defensively.

“Look,” he trudged on because, again, the gods hated him. And he seemed to have lost the ability to keep his damned mouth shut. “It’s OK,” he insisted. “It’s OK if you’re not fine. After all, this is Eren we’re going after. Again”

She hissed under her breath.

He held both hands up in a gesture of surrender. Heaven help the idiot who may dare criticize Eren Yeager and his suicidal tendencies. He tried to think of another path to reach her.

“Mikasa,” he muttered lowly, stepping closer to her and reaching for her arm again. Because, dammit, apparently Yeager wasn’t the only one with suicidal tendencies. “Listen,” he started, “we need you, OK? We fucking need you.” 

She stared at him suspiciously, and seemed to take on a less combative stance. He let go of her arm, thankful she hadn’t sent him flying across the room yet. He ran his right hand through his hair and stared down at her. “We can’t do this without you.” It was a statement of fact. “You and Captain Levi...we can’t do it without either of you.” Feeling slightly more brave because of her silence, he put both his hands on her shoulders. “So if you’re not OK...if there’s anything at all in your head that is distracting you from this mission...you need to tell me. Or the Commander. Or Captain Levi. Hell, tell anyone, and I guarantee, we will move the skies to make it right.” His tone was impassioned, his words from the heart.

He took a deep breath and stepped back slowly, dropping his arms. “We’ll get Eren back,” the words just pushed out of his mouth. Saying his name left a bitter taste. “But we need you to do it.” He paused. “Eren needs you.”

Part of him hated himself for going down this road. 

“Eren needs you,” he repeated like a mantra, “if we’re ever going to get him out of this place.” He searched her eyes for signs that she gets it. “So I’ll ask you again, and this will be the last time. Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she replied quickly, “I’m fine,” she added more carefully this time, evening her tone deliberately and focusing her eyes to meet his own steadily.

“OK then,” he returned. “Just...just know. You have to know. That I’m here. If you need anything. At all.” She had to know, right? He’d always been here. When was he never here?

But the look of surprise in her face said something different.

“Jean,” she said softly.

He could hear his heart pounding, feel its loud beat against his chest. Hearing his name across her lips always did things to him. He watched an internal struggle take place across her eyes before she raised her hands to reach out for one of his own and hold it in front of her like a lifeline. His breath hitched as she squeezed his hand almost instinctively, before her thumbs started to rub back and forth across his palms, seemingly lingering over the calluses he knew matched hers and every other soldier who’s had to use their weapons or ODM gear. He curled his fingers around hers.

She was so close he could almost feel her breath.

“I’m fine,” she said again, almost to herself it seemed. Her eyes lingered at their clasped hands before finally looking up into his own. “Thank you for asking, Jean.” 

She needed to stop saying his fucking name or he’ll come undone.

She let out a forced smile. And he knew it was forced because he knew her face. Studied it with the depth only an artist can appreciate. Knew it as well as he knew his own. Drawn it more times than he could count. He knew all her forced expressions. But who could blame her? What was there to smile at in this situation? 

“You are a great commanding officer,” she said gently. “You will lead your team back to safety and, with any hope, we will be back home by tomorrow.”

Was she reassuring him?

_You are a great commanding officer._

Her words were a balm to his hidden doubts. He could feel his chest almost swell up with pride. 

Her next words were a struggle for her.

“I’m sorry...about Eren,” her voice was low. “He shouldn’t have—“

“Mikasa,” he said firmly this time, “don’t.” Using his free hand, he reached out to her face, his left hand almost caressing her cheek, his thumb brushing against the familiar scar under her right eye. He savored the moment when her head turned just slightly towards his touch

_Don’t apologize for him. Don’t take on his guilt. Don’t take on his mantle of righteousness. Don’t, don’t, don’t._

He wanted to say so many things, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth tonight.

Maybe he was afraid. He didn’t want her to think badly of him. To think that he was once again criticizing not only Eren, but her as well for her unwavering devotion to him.

Maybe he was tired. Tired of having the same conversation with her, and tired of the same results. Only mad men did the same things over and over expecting different results.

Or maybe, maybe he was just a little selfish. He didn’t want to let go of her hands, and didn’t want to stop touching her face. And most importantly, he really didn’t want to talk about Eren and this forced mission they were about to embark on.

“Jean, have you seen—“ the absolutely unwelcome voice of his so-called friends broke the silence, interrupting what was probably the most important conversation he would ever have with her.

Belatedly, he recognized the sound of footsteps approaching from the side.

“—Mikasa,” Sasha finished her train of thought even as she began her retreat. She had started to backtrack upon seeing him with Mikasa. “Oops,” her voice cracked.

“What the—“ Connie’s yelp was loud as Sasha backed into him. 

He could feel his friends gaping at them before both he and Mikasa even turned their heads towards them. 

He wondered if Mikasa noticed the acute chagrin emanating from him as she slowly stepped back from him, withdrawing both physically and mentally from whatever connection there was with him before. He let his hands fall to his sides in an effort to keep them from reaching out for her once again. His empty fingers curled into fists, already missing her presence.

He glared at his friends in frustration, reasonably upset at their intrusion. He was making headway with her. He knew he was. 

Sasha seemed to regain her bearings first. With a sympathetic and regretful look towards his direction, she began to move, mouthing a wordless apology as she approached them. “Mikasa, Captain Levi and the Commander were looking for you,” she delivered, striding purposefully towards her, and grabbing her arm. 

Mikasa gave a nod and allowed herself to be led away without so much as a backwards glance to his direction. His eyes followed her retreat until she and Sasha made a turn and both were gone from his view.

Silence reigned for a few glorious seconds between him and Connie, and the tension he’d felt in the air slowly began to dissipate.

“What the hell?!” Connie’s exclamation was not unexpected. “Finally grew some balls, Jean?”

Of course, it didn’t mean he had to put up with it.

“Tsk,” he brushed him off and started walking to the armory. “Up yours, Springer,” he replied crassly, fighting the bile of disappointment that threatened to choke him. His friends always did have the worst timing.

“Awwww, c’mon, Jean,” the cajoling voice followed him, his arm almost yanked from its socket as Connie held on to him before wrapping an arm around his neck and dragging him down to his level. “What was that about?” 

Jean pushed him away with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t have time for this,” he retorted brusquely, not breaking his pace. It was perhaps a futile hope that Connie would drop it.

“Jeaaaaaaan,” whined Connie, following him closely behind. 

He tried. He did his part. He hoped it was enough, and that her head was in the right place. That was part of his duty. He said what needed to be said. That’s all he could do under the circumstances. 

Right?

Her role in the mission was crucial and they needed her focused. 

But the truth of the matter is...he needed her focused. He needed her to make it out of this mess. Because if she didn’t….if she didn’t, he wasn’t sure if he could come out of this with his soul intact.

“Jean,” Connie continued, intent on getting his way it seemed, and making Jean’s life miserable for the next few hours.

“Connie,” he finally turned to his friend. “Not now.” He took a deep breath. “Please,” he implored quietly under his breath.

Connie stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Goddamit,” Connie muttered. “You’re no fun, you know that?” He groaned. “You finally get something interesting going on in the ladies department,” he stated, “and then you turn gentleman on me and skimp on the details.”

“There are no details to skimp,” Jean assured him, and part of him believed it. Because nothing happened, right? He and Mikasa talked. Or tried to talk.

_You are a great commanding officer._

Why do her words echo in his brain? He’d heard them before, from various soldiers.

_You will lead your team back to safety._

But coming from her….

He let out a breath he’d been holding and turned to Connie, whose disbelieving look was understandable.

Because he’d just lied. 

There was somewhat of a moment, wasn’t there? It wasn’t romantic, the way his fevered dreams hoped it could be. 

But it was more than the usual soldier talk. More than the usual shop talk they have when he did talk to her.

The words said, few as they were, were heavy and laden with...something. He wanted to put his finger on it. He wanted to name it, give it some substance, and make it more tangible. Instead, he was left with this elusive something that he can’t grasp, but wanted to. Wanted to more than anything.

“Whatever you say, Jean,” Connie said resignedly. “But I want you to know that the only reason I’m dropping this right now is cos it’s Mikasa. Don’t want to be on the bad end of that doom and gloom.” He paused. “Besides, maybe Sasha will have better luck. And that woman can’t keep a secret to save her life.” He grinned. “Who knows? You might be begging me for details of what she said soon!”

He shoved his so-called buddy. “Get a move on, Connie,” his tone less terse than he would have preferred it to be. “We’ve got a mission to complete and you’re dawdling.”

He would think about it more later.

Later when they had time. Later, when they get out of this hell hole of a mission.

Maybe he’ll even talk to Connie about it because, really, who else would he talk to?

Now where the fuck were those goddamn thunder spears?


	2. Accept

_Tonight._

She walked with purpose, a far cry from the last few days of just waiting. 

_They’ll get him back tonight._

She would see to it. She would make sure with every fiber of her being that they got him back. 

And when they do, she was going to...going to…

Ugh.

She couldn’t think.

She couldn’t believe he would resort to this. Why would he even—

She slammed against another soldier, and gave a cry of impatience and frustration. She didn’t have time for this! She needs to focus and—

“Mikasa,” Jean cried out, “I’m sorry!” 

_Jean._

Jean with his knowing eyes.

She gave him a startled glance and a nod, before quickly looking away. She didn’t need to see those particular eyes right now. Eyes that might be full of judgment. She couldn’t let it distract her when there was already so much on her mind.

“Me too,” she murmured softly, hurriedly, apologetically. “I didn’t see you there,” she muttered, almost to herself. She needed to get out of her head. How could she not see him? He was one of the few people actually taller than her in the Scouts.

“Mikasa,” he called back to her, and she belatedly noticed the hand gripping her arm.

She paused her stride, taking her time to first look disbelievingly at the hand on her arm before turning to fully face him.

She could count the number of people in the Scouts, in the whole island even, that would willingly dare initiate any physical contact with her. And Jean...Jean never touched her. Not on purpose at least. Sure, there was hand to hand combat training on the occasions they were partnered years ago, but if there’s one more thing she noticed about him, it was that he took painstaking care to avoid any physical contact between them if at all possible. She had even observed him literally jump back from her on plenty of occasions when their shoulders or arms might brush against each other at meal times. 

“Jean,” she inquired, a little curious as to what brought about this sudden change.

“Are you...alright?” he asked, hesitantly.

She gave him what she hoped was a withering look, a look aimed at ensuring no further similar questions were thrown her way. It wouldn’t do for anyone, most especially Jean, to think she couldn’t handle this mission. 

“You just don’t seem...yourself,” he explained, as if reading her mind. “I mean not that there’s nothing wrong ...or anything. Just that you seem a little ...off?”

She snapped her arm back from his grasp. Jean always did see too much. It’s what made him a good commanding officer.

“I’m fine,” she said crossly, defensively, because while she understood his concern, there was no way she wanted him to interfere with what she needed to do.

“Look,” he trudged on, obviously uncomfortable with the whole conversation, but determined, it seemed, to get something off his chest. “It’s OK,” he stated. “It’s OK if you’re not fine. After all, this is Eren we’re going after.”

There was a brief pause and she narrowed her eyes.

“Again,” he just had to add.

She growled. She did not need another lecture about how rash, and irresponsible, and dangerous, and downright suicidal Eren was. She’d heard plenty of it already and, what’s more, it wasn’t something she herself had not thought of. 

But, most importantly, she did not need it from _him._ She, more than anyone, knew how much Jean hated the plan they were all forced to come up with. She knew how much he’d worked with Armin and all those higher ups to find different ways not only to ensure their people’s safety, but also minimize the civilian casualties in Liberio. 

In the end, however, they were all backed into a corner.

_Eren_ backed them all into a corner. And there’s no turning back now.

Jean flinched under her gaze and held both hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

“Mikasa,” he said gently, stepping closer to her and reaching for her arm.

And again, she looked down on the hand, pale against her uniform. That’s twice now that he’s willingly touched her outside of training. If he thought he was going to stop her—

“Listen,” he said, his voice low, with a sense of urgency, “we need you, OK? We fucking need you.” 

—then he had another thing coming—wait, what?

He let go of her arm abruptly, as if burned.

And she found that she was actually...wished that he didn’t?

She watched as he ran his right hand through his hair, a sure sign of his agitation, before looking down at her. “We can’t do this without you,” his calm voice belied his demeanor.

And then there was that look again. That heat he couldn’t quite cover up. But this time, it was mixed with so much more. Jean never could hide his feelings well. They were always in his eyes.

“You and Captain Levi...we can’t do it without either of you,” he continued.

Oh.

Right.

Of course.

Mikasa _Ackerman_ had a purpose in this war after all. 

So why did she feel a small amount of...disappointment at his words? Did she hope for something else? Something more?

She felt him put both his hands on her shoulders. “So if you’re not OK...if there’s anything at all in your head that is distracting you from this mission...you need to tell me.”

_You need to tell me._

She stared at those hands that held her. Could feel their warmth even through her top. She started to say something because maybe, talking to Jean could help clear her head. Jean had a way of cutting through the bullshit. And he wanted to help. 

“Or the Commander,” Jean went on, “Or Captain Levi. Hell, tell anyone, and I guarantee, we will move the skies to make it right.” His tone was impassioned, his words from the heart.

And he wanted her to talk to the shortie.

What the hell was she thinking? 

She was fine.

They had a mission and she knew her part.

“Eren needs you.”

And like a switch, her mind was sharp once again, focused. This was about getting Eren back.

“Eren needs you,” he repeated, “if we’re ever going to get him out of this place. So I’ll ask you again, and this will be the last time. Are you alright?”

Eren needed her.

“Yes,” she replied quickly, “I’m fine,” she added more carefully this time, evening her tone deliberately and focusing her eyes to meet his own steadily. She was fine. She could do this.

“OK then,” he returned. “Just...just know. You have to know. That I’m here. If you need anything. At all.” 

_I’m here. If you need anything._

And part of her wanted that so much to be true. Wanted there to be someone she could share her fears and her worries about Eren. Because sometimes, doing it alone can be so...burdensome. And lonely. And the guilt that eats away for feeling that was no small matter.

“Jean,” she said softly.

And in his eyes, she could see the same uncertainty. The same worry. It may not be directed to Eren in particular, but Jean had his own burdens and responsibilities to carry. To lead his team towards one of biggest ground assaults that Paradis has ever done. It was no small matter for a man like him to let the safety of the lives of his men weigh him down.

Maybe it wasn’t exactly the same, but she knew the weight of a life on one’s shoulders. Knew the fears that came with it. With a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and grabbed hold of one of his hands and held it in front of her like a lifeline. She heard his breath catch, his breathing erratic as she squeezed his hand almost instinctively. 

Her thumbs started to rub back and forth across his palms, lingering over the calluses that matched hers and every other soldier who’s had to use their weapons or ODM gear. She felt his fingers curl around hers in response.

“I’m fine,” she wanted to reassure him. Her eyes lingered at their clasped hands before finally looking up into him. “Thank you for asking, Jean.” 

Because really, he was the only one who’s asked. Ever since Eren had left, her friends and colleagues had walked around her in eggshells. They’d given her a wide berth. Even Armin had been uncharacteristically silent around her. 

And it was Jean, whose eyes always unwillingly followed her every step.. Jean whose quiet judgment she had come to rely on...Jean who had his own worries and responsibilities. It was Jean who wanted to be sure that she was _alright._

She forced a smile and tried to think of a way to thank him. To give him the same sense of reassurance and a small amount of peace, the way he’d done for her.

“You are a great commanding officer,” she said gently, knowing that sometimes, he doubts himself. She gleaned enough from his fights with Eren to know this. “You will lead your team back to safety and, with any hope, we will be back home by tomorrow.” She also knew that for Jean, each life was precious. 

Her next words were a struggle for her.

“I’m sorry...about Eren,” she said softly. She was sorry. She knew what his actions would lead to. “He shouldn’t have—“

“Mikasa,” he said firmly, a bit impatiently, “don’t.” Using his free hand, she felt him reach out to her face, his left hand caressing her cheek, his thumb brushing against the familiar scar under her right eye. 

Instinctively, she turned her head just slightly towards his touch. 

When was the last time someone had held her like this? Like she was precious? Like she was the only thing that mattered?

“Jean, have you seen—” Sasha’s voice drifted to her, and it broke whatever reverie she was in. Her eyes lingered over his before turning to look at their friend, and slowly stepping away. She could only imagine what Sasha’s overactive imagination was coming up with at this time.

“—Mikasa!” Sasha finished, her voice climbing up a pitch. “Oops,” she sounded almost regretful.

“What the—“ Connie’s yelp was loud as Sasha backed into him clumsily.

She sighed. Connie too, huh.

Sasha seemed to regain her bearings first. “Mikasa, Captain Levi and the Commander were looking for you,” she told her, and grabbed her arm a little more forcefully than usual. Sasha was one of the few people who seem to have no compunctions when it came to touching or grabbing or all out hugging her.

Mikasa gave a nod and allowed herself to be led away, all the while telling herself not to look back.

“What was _that_ about?” Sasha whispered under her breath loudly once they were out of ear shot. Her eyes were staring at her intently, like a hunter with the scent of its prey.

She shook her head. She wished she knew. 

But right now wasn’t the time. The Commander and Captain Levi were waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
